


one night carnival

by thunderylee



Category: 2NE1, NewS (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, implied BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2019-01-31 05:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12675309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: With him, she can be whoever she wants.





	one night carnival

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

Christmas is no different in Japan than Korea. Bom isn’t sure why she thought it would be, with the change of scenery and all. It’s the familiarity that tugs at her, making her second-guess coming here in the first place. It’s not worth it if it’s the same as being in Korea.

Bom has never understood the appeal of Japan. She loved Korea and being Korean, the language and the people. She would be perfectly happy if 2ne1 was never asked to debut in Japan, to sing in an uncomfortable language for an audience for whom lyrics in Korean are not good enough. She nods and smiles through Jiyong and Seunghyun’s exciting stories of the neighboring country, not wanting to be rude but not terribly interested either.

In recent years, she’s found herself keeping her mouth shut more often than not. Having so much of her life televised has naturally led her to be more reserved, constantly put-together and idol-like. Influential. Girls all over Korea wanted to be like her; the boys just wanted to be _with_ her. She may not be the leader of her group but she is still the oldest, with her own responsibilities as role model internally as well.

Japan is beautiful, particularly this time of the year with all of the decorations and happy people strolling hand in hand, everything she is trying to get away from.

She didn’t come here for beautiful things. She could have those in Korea.

Standing in the middle of the busy intersection, deciding which way to go, she contemplates what kind of person she will choose tonight. Bom’s preferred type changes with the weather, but one thing stays the same – their age. She likes the young ones, the ones she can mold into whoever she wants while she too morphs her form. In Amsterdam she can be submissive, under the safe directing of the sex clubs where she doesn’t even have to bother with pretenses. Italy gave her a whirlwind romance, Canada gave her a worshiping couple, and Germany gave her a strap-on.

What does Japan have in store for her, she wonders. It’s too close to home to be exotic in any way, the same types of people walking past her on the street with differently-slanted eyes and smaller frames. But just like any conforming city, Tokyo has its rebels, the punk boys and gangsters who try so hard to stand out just to be cast in another stereotype. They leer at her from their respective corners, eyeballing the pretty Korean girl with thick, dick-sucking lips and a neckline that’s asking for it.

Too bad she’s not in the mood to be degraded tonight; she could add “gangbang in Tokyo” to her list of international conquests. But right now she’s feeling a little superior, sadistic, her eyes scanning the crowd for someone who might bend to her will. It’s been awhile since she’s taken full control, not since YoungBae.

She sees him leaning up against an alley wall, smoking, completely inconspicuous except for the outrageous haircut. Dressed in all black, he almost blends in with the surrounding darkness, with the exception of the dirty street light reflecting off his shiny watch and calling her like a beacon.

This is him, she thinks excitedly. This is her Japanese prey.

He’s sharply dressed but slouching like a teenager, tilting his head back against the wall and exhaling into the night like it’s the only relief in his life. Bom recognizes the symptoms and wonders if they might just find comfort in each other, at least for as long as it takes for him to fuck her into the wall.

“That will kill you, you know,” she calls out before she approaches, a warning that gives her a chance to change her mind.

He doesn’t react, and for a moment she thinks her crisp English words fall on ignorant ears. Then he cuts his eyes to her, darkly, the only acknowledgment he presumably deems worthy of giving her. “Lots of other things could kill me first.”

Her feet stop suddenly, her skin erupting in goosebumps. His _voice_. His accent is horrible but his tone is hot, seducing her ears. She wants him to talk forever, about anything. He can even speak in Japanese; she doesn’t need to understand.

Her body contracts at the thought of what he might sound like when he screams.

“My name is Bom, Park Bom,” she tells him, finding her sense as she continues to step towards him like she never stopped. “What’s yours?”

“I am Kato,” he replies, the comfortable syllables floating off his tongue like a melody. “Kato Shigeaki.”

“The Japanese have such beautiful, flowing names,” she comments, then tests it out. “Ka-to Shi-ge-a-ki.”

He hides a smile. “It only sounds that nice when pretty Korean girls say it.”

“I’m impressed,” she admits, raising an eyebrow. “Most foreigners think I’m Filipino.”

“Your surname is _Park_ ,” he points out, like anyone would be stupid not to make the association. “And technically _you’re_ the foreigner here.”

She folds her arms, playfully narrowing her eyes. “Right.”

Upon closer scrutiny, Bom finds youth in this Kato’s face, somewhere under the tired eyes and worry lines. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s smoking like a stressed-out CEO, she might ponder the possibility that he’s underage. Though his clothes are way too nice to be immature – quality material and designer names – and his boots reek of sophistication. Even his hair is slicked up and out at a distinct angle, like he spent a lot of time trying to make it look that disheveled, or maybe he paid someone else to.

“So, Ms. Park,” he interrupts her judging, somehow managing to hold onto his superior air while tripping over his words. “What brings you to Japan?”

“Adventure,” she replies casually. “Do you know where I could find some?”

Kato smokes thoughtfully, the cherry ball of fire brightening his features as he sucks on the stick. “You shouldn’t say things like that to strange men in dark alleyways.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate pretty Korean girls,” she shoots back, smiling sweetly. Her nerves are shaking and her fists clench at her sides, her adrenaline peaked and ready to go, only her willpower holding her back from attack.

He offers her an indescribable look as he exhales through his nose, one which he chokes on when she picks the butt from his fingers, flicks it to the side, and pushes him against the wall with one palm flat to his chest. His eyes don’t leave hers, much closer now that she’s in his space, and her hand softens and turns to finger the collar of his shirt. His heartbeat isn’t racing, his eyes slitted in amusement. He thinks she’s playing.

She’s only a little bit distracted by his cologne, which is subtle enough to draw her in but strong enough to cover up most of the smoke. He smells pleasant, enticing, good enough to eat. As it is her lips brush against his collarbone, pulling a gasp from his throat and making her smile against his skin, satisfied in startling him. Her hands drop to his waist, resting loosely as she presses closer and feels his hard muscles against her soft curves.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he whispers, his voice all depth and going straight between her legs. He twitches like he wants to move, to touch her, to move against her like she’s lazily rolling her body towards his.

“Getting what I came here for,” she answers bluntly, lips dragging up his jaw while one hand drops to pointedly squeeze the fly of his pants. “Kato-san.”

His breath catches in his throat and she frowns, groping him harder in an attempt to draw out any kind of noise. Her body yearns for it more than sex, even as his length fills out in her hand and has her blood running hot at the thought of that inside her. Maybe she would push him to the ground and ride him, pinning his hands over his head if he tries to stop her. It’s not rape if he’s aroused, she justifies, although the thought of him struggling has her even wetter.

She’s so worked up that she doesn’t notice the turn of events until she’s the one shoved against the wall, strong hands firm on her hips and an eager mouth roughly descending upon her own. Her mind spins, her body seeking out his touch without any instruction, rolling against him as he presses between her legs that lift to wrap around his waist. She pulls her hand away just in time, his hardness rubbing against her through their clothes that burn with delicious friction.

“You sure you want to do this here?” he asks between desperate kisses, tongue twisting and hot breaths of air that has her head spinning despite her need to regain control. “My buddy has a car-”

“Shut up,” she snaps, tightening her knees together to halt his hips in their actions. His whimper sounds like beautiful music and she rewards him by rocking her own body, massaging the strained bulge in his pants with the soaked crotch of her panties that stimulates her swollen clit just right. Her moan has him shuddering against her, frustrated at being held back and retaliating with two fingers inching up her inner thigh, dipping under the fabric and pressing right inside her.

He’s the one who gasps, using more force as her muscles mold around him until he’s practically jabbing her sharply. It feels too good for Bom to keep up her restraint and she inevitably gives in, spreading her thighs and tossing her head back as he fingers her harder. Lips attach to her neck as the grinding returns, nearly enough to make her finish before his pants are even unfastened. He continues down, down into the cleavage of her top and past the confines of her bra, tugging the lace down with his teeth, enough to expose one dark nipple, erect in the cold air, and bathe it with his tongue. She’s just about bouncing on his fingers as he thrusts against her like they’re already fucking, rushed breaths and firm grips on shoulders and hips, each pulling the other closer.

It takes all of Bom’s remaining concentration but she manages to coordinate her hands on Kato’s belt, making quick work of the buckle along with the button and zipper on his pants that proves difficult to lower when he only moves faster. He chokes on his air and Bom’s ready to scream _for_ him, purposely rubbing the blunt head of his cock until he’s shaking with need, balancing her against the wall with the hand inside her while the other fumbles in his jacket pocket for something that crinkles as he opens it.

There’s one thing she knows how to say in Japanese – “Let me hear your voice” – and instantly his fingers are exchanged for his cock, hard and thick as he holds her firmly by the ass and thrusts up inside her. He doesn’t think he heard her at first, or maybe she remembered the lyrics wrong, but then a soft moan sounds right in her ear and her body contracts in orgasm. His panting turns into growling as he fucks her through it, her mind completely gone as he pushes through her clenching muscles and prods her deep inside. All she can do is hold on and give in, her world a series of bright lights and stars with each crashing wave of euphoria he gives her.

“Park-san,” he rasps, his voice much deeper than normal and seeming to fuck her along with his length. The polite address sounds even better in Japanese, along with the string of words that follow it naturally. Bom doesn’t understand any of them but the way they flow together is hot, coupled with the groan that strengthens as he speeds up and pounds into her as hard as he can.

She comes again, her resolve completely diminished, but she can accept the loss of power in exchange for mind-blowing orgasms. She feels him start to falter and grabs onto his shoulders; if she’s going down she’s taking him with her, even if she’s not exactly opposed to being fucked into the pavement. Right now he can fuck her wherever he wants as long as he doesn’t stop, as long as he keeps thrusting deep inside her and moaning her name into her throat. He pulls her against him at the same time he pushes forward and it’s almost too much, his body shaking and sweating as he undoubtedly nears his release.

He’s still mumbling in Japanese and she wonders if he ever shuts up. It’s probably a good thing she doesn’t understand or it might be annoying, but instead it’s just audio stimulation as he quickens his speed, preparing to finish. She resigns herself to the end and takes a much needed breath, only to choke when Kato dips one of his hands between them in a surprising move and rubs circles on her clit. In the split-second before she explodes, his neck is the only thing she can find to muffle her shrieks, doing so by sinking her teeth into his skin and losing herself to the shrill cry that tears from him, the mixture of pleasure and pain as he jerkily thrusts through her contracting body and finally stills.

The chill from the winter air is a fierce reminder of where they are, and it’s with great reluctance that Bom lowers her legs and situates her clothes for the general public. She sways in her standing, not quite on par with reality just yet, and at the last second a hand grabs her arm. It’s weak but it holds her up, and she nods her thanks as she catches her breath and tries to focus on the man standing beside her, this stranger she just fucked in the alley of a foreign city.

“Manager is going to kill me,” he’s muttering, his English even more broken as he brings his hand to his neck where Bom had left her mark. “You Koreans are like vampires.”

“Not all of us,” she tells him breathlessly, offering a smirk. “Just me.”

He gives her a look that clearly says he is not amused.

“You have a manager?” she inquires. “Are you at working right now or something?”

“On set, yeah,” Kato says nonchalantly. “I’m kind of in a music group.”

Bom’s first impulse is to laugh; no _wonder_ she wanted to hear his voice so badly. “Is that right.”

“Yeah, they’re probably looking for me,” he goes on, running a hand through his already crazy hair. “Please forgive me, but I’m not aware of the etiquette for mid-winter back-alley hook-ups. Am I supposed to ask for your number?”

“I don’t do long-distance relationships,” she says bluntly, then smiles. “It was nice meeting you.”

Kato scoffs. “Meeting, yeah. Take care.”

Bom only limps a little as she walks away. She already knows she won’t be back.

*

Six months later, Shige ends up in Seoul against his will, walking down the street with Koyama at his side. Summertime in Korea is not much different than summertime in Japan, at least the amount of clothing the girls in both countries wear is cut in half. Particularly the girl group whose newest single is all over the airwaves; Shige had barely been off the plane for an hour before he became aware of 2ne1 and their pop-dance hit.

“That one is _hot_ ,” Koyama points out as they pass a display of TVs in the show window of an electronics store. The girls are doing their thing, singing and dancing in bright colors and tight material. “The one in the back that’s kind of off from the rest.”

Shige thinks that it takes one to notice, but before he can quip he’s staring into the pixelated face he’ll never forget, the pretty assertive Korean girl who accosted him in the alley behind the studio in the dead of winter and just left right afterward.

“Her name is Park Bom,” Shige says without thinking.

“How do you know who she is?” Koyama asks. “Are you listening to Kpop behind my back?”

“ _No_ ,” Shige insists, although the music really isn’t that bad. “She was in town over the holidays and we kind of had sex between sets of MSSL.”

Koyama made a noise, and Shige turns to see him choking on his laughter. “Yeah, right.”

“Seriously!” Shige insists. “Why would I lie about that?”

Koyama’s nose was nearly pressed to the glass, trying to get a closer look at Bom. “Because girls just don’t walk up and have sex with people, Shige.”

“This one does,” Shige mutters. “Fine, I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

An exasperated sigh sounds from Koyama as he pries himself away from the TV and continues walking. “Don’t worry, Shige. You’ll get a girlfriend someday.”

Shige’s not paying attention – the 2ne1’s video is followed by an advertisement for what seems to be an appearance tonight, with the word “live” in English, and he wonders how long it would take him to find out where this particular show is filmed at.

He needs to pay someone a little visit.


End file.
